


That Man Is Playing Galaga

by SingSwan_SpringSwan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bruce knows how to bake (it’s just chemistry!), Drabbles, Gen, I think I would just cut the wire, Peter Parker is a spider, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony has PTSD, Tony has bad memories/flashbacks, Tony’s a piping hot mess, heavy drabbles, peter is a cutie, steve doesn’t understand, this was honestly just a mindless ramble that I wrote in one hour before my concert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 14:51:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingSwan_SpringSwan/pseuds/SingSwan_SpringSwan
Summary: “That man is playing Galaga!Thought we wouldn’t notice.But we did.”





	That Man Is Playing Galaga

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly Robert is just such an actor and every time I watch that part in Avengers, the way he pauses as he delivers this line is just so inspiring for fanfiction like I can’t even tell you.

“That man is playing Galaga!”

_Don’t stop._

_Enjoy it._

_Because it might not last long._

“Thought we wouldn’t notice,”

_Had to notice._

_We have to notice everything._

“But we did.”

The offender hurriedly clicked away, and Tony pretended to move on. But he couldn’t focus and a migraine was starting to grow. It was lucky enough that he covered his left eye.

“How does Fury see all of these?”

“He turns.”

“Sounds exhausting.” 

And yeah, Tony is exhausted. Unlike Spangles over there, who probably got a full eight hours. Tony would be fortunate to get as much as one, but it’s not like he bothered to check because,

“When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?”

“Last night.”

It’s alright if Steve doesn’t know what’s going on, because he can just stand in line, like a perfect little soldier. He’ll be fine if he just gets up and follows orders. Tony can’t do that. He doesn’t have the energy to explain why.

But there’s a problem that fell into his lap. Specifically an army of problems, and he doesn’t have any choice but to push his exhaustion aside and do the work that the world needs him to do. He doesn’t have time to slack off. He doesn’t have time to enjoy himself. He doesn’t have time to play Galaga.

His kind of life is definitely not the life to live, but what can he do? He’s been this way for a while, dragging himself everywhere, in so much pain, hiding behind a mirror that smokes. It’s been hard to find reasons to keep this up. Pepper is one of them, his dad is another. Mainly because he just wants to prove something to them. That he can be the man they want him to be. The one they need him to be. For him, it’s totally doable. An older, wiser, better-rested doable.

Well, if his dad were still alive.

Tony just wants to help, despite what everyone else thinks. He’s trying now. He’s trying to be better. And he really does care. Because he knows that a lot of people out there are just like him. And he wants to give them something he always wished he had.

Just a chance.

A chance to hope.

Which is why he’s here, doing this. Looking for the magic space cube thing. It’s okay that Steve doesn’t think he’s willing to make the sacrificial play. That’s fine. Tony doesn’t blame him. All of Tony’s life has been spent in a desperate scramble for someone to notice him. Someone that mattered, at least. But now that someone does…

He’d rather cut the wire, but in the case that he can’t, yes. He’d lay down on it. He’d let it all go. He would.

It’s just that, the price to pay is his happiness. Tony is out there on the front lines, every day, and hour and minute. There’s no sit back and relax, not when a prince from another world is threatening everything he loves.

So he would prefer it if his biggest problem were worrying about whether or not his boss caught him playing games on his work computer, instead of wondering if he’ll survive the next week. Tony is supposed to be the genius, the one with all the ideas. He’s supposed to have all the great inventions and the kick-butt gear. He’s supposed to be confident.

But he’s not.

Tony is scared.

Tony is really, really, scared. He’d never out and out admit that, of course. But it’s eating up his insides. It’s turning his brain to mush. These days, it’s all he can do to think straight, past the fear and anger and hopelessness. He needs to believe that he can get past this, that their world doesn’t have to fall just because an alien armada swooped in and wanted it to. He has to believe that he can do something good for once, that he can protect the people who don’t even think he cares.

But he does care. He does.

 

“Mr. Stark?”

Tony jumped a little and blinked in confusion. “What? Uh, sorry kid, you kinda lost me.” He narrowed his eyes teasingly and leaned forward, elbows propped on the workbench. “I thought we were talking about your web-shooters. How did we get to this conversation again?”

Peter shrugged a little, which made the rest of his hoodie flop up his arms. “Well if you were paying attention, you would know.”

“So sure about that, are we?”

He nodded enthusiastically, which looked hard to do upside down.

“Hmph.”

Tony twisted the wire in his hands and went back to the project in front of him. One of the knees in his Iron Man mark forty-four was getting quirky, and he was trying to gauge the source of the problem.

Peter grew impatient with the silence.

“I was talking about how the mechanics of the new web-shooters we made last week just reminded me of the guns in the game that Ned and I play with Harry sometimes.” He blurted. What a kid.

“Yes, thank you for that lovely refresher.”

“You spaced out.”

Tony pretended not to hear him, peering closer to the joint instead and picking up a tiny wrench to loosen a few random bolts.

“Mr. Stark?”

“Hmm?”

“Does that… happen a lot?”

The genuine concern in Peter’s voice made Tony sigh. “This game of your’s, what’s it called again?”

“Um, Open Galaga…?”

Ah, that was why. 

_Don’t stop._

_Enjoy it._

_Because it might not last long._

“This stupid…” Tony cursed under his breath and leaned away from the machine on the table, running a hand tiredly down his face.

“No kid, it really doesn’t.”

Peter donned an equally confused and calculating look. “Wait, so–”

“I’m hungry.” Tony stood and set his tools down, brushing off his hands. “Let’s take a break from this.”

Peter obediently jumped down from the ceiling and followed Tony out of the room. “Are you okay? You looked like you were remembering something bad.”

Tony gave a small shrug. “You could say that.”

Peter was quiet for a minute. They walked into the kitchen and raided the stash of muffins that Bruce had made that morning. Chocolate with chocolate chip. Both of their favorites.

“Where did you go?” Peter asked quietly.

“What?”

“When you were remembering. Where did you go?”

Tony finished his muffin in an enormous gulp. Then he grabbed another. He picked at the paper cup for a few seconds before he sighed and set it down. 

“Five years ago. On a helicarrier. When Loki was about to bust out.”

Peter's face screwed up as he did the math. “Wait, was that… before New York?”

Tony nodded.

“Why was that a particularly bad memory?” Peter reached for a third muffin.

“It was a personal low. Maybe Nick caught on but I don't think anyone else did.” Tony decided he would be taking his muffin back to the workshop.

“Hang on, ‘was’? You're better now?” He hopped down from his stool and followed Tony again, but not before snagging a fourth muffin for his other hand.

Tony smiled fondly and reached over to ruffle his hair.

“'Course, kid. I've got things to fight for.”


End file.
